


The day after

by spockside



Series: The Day After [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockside/pseuds/spockside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what happened to Vulcan, the <i>Enterprise</i>, or its crew, it would always be <i>that day</i> for him - the day his mother died. That was two days ago, long days, as the crew struggled to return to some kind of normal routine. Uhura went about her duties, saw Spock on the bridge, shared meals in the mess hall, felt as though she were waiting for the other shoe to drop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The only Vulcan in Starfleet

**Author's Note:**

> My first Star Trek reboot fic, around which many of my other stories are written.

Late in the day Uhura finally figured out what was nagging her. She was in the main communications lab, helping adjust the array. She had spent the first part of the shift on the bridge, where she and Spock had crossed paths; she murmured something to him in Vulcan and was satisfied when his sensitive ears caught it and he glanced over at her.

There would be no cutesy behavior on the bridge, she knew that. Or anywhere else, for that matter. She wouldn't have had it any other way. She'd never been the flirty, pouty type; she preferred straight dealing and honesty. Not that she didn't use feminine graces to their fullest advantage on occasion! But honesty was the only thing that worked for her. Any man who didn't take her at face value was looking for something that wasn't there.

The man who had met her honesty with his own murmured something back, then moved away to another station. Uhura smiled, but inwardly. Cutesy, no; very, very private, yes indeed.

She knew the captain would be on the bridge soon, and watching her not so surreptitiously. Since the moment they met he had seen her as a challenge - one he thought he could overcome like he had so many before her. But she was only the first challenge Starfleet would present him with, and not just in the courting arena. She thought the rigor of first-year courses might take him down a peg, but it just seemed to throw fuel into his warp engines. Fortunately, there were plenty of women in San Francisco, and when he had gone through them there was always the east Bay, and the Peninsula…

And she was already, then, interested in her xenolinguistics instructor, the only Vulcan in Starfleet, whom nothing seemed to distract. He honed in on her enthusiasm for language (genuine, not fashioned as a ruse to seduce him) and she willingly filled her brain and ears with new sounds and concepts.

He pulled no punches in testing her - or any of his students - not purposing to shame them, but showing them what it took to do the job they wanted. At her viva voce he was ruthless; she stood up to the panel and shot back response for response with perfect intonation and idiom.

Afterward, she encountered Spock coming out of the building and grinned at him. "What relief!" she said. "That has been the center of my universe for too long. Now I can relax ever so briefly."

He looked at her sidelong as they fell into step. "Until the next challenge. Life does not always give one time to relax."

"Sometimes life is just one damn thing after another," she agreed. "But carpe diem, and this day belongs to me. What shall we do with it?"

"We? I have scheduled time in the exercise facilities, and as you know, it's not my way to diverge from my usual routine."

She stopped walking, and he stopped to face her.

"You're not my instructor any more, no matter what level I get for your course."

"I am not." He tilted his brow. "Is this the reason for your celebratory mood? That you have rid yourself of this turbulent instructor?" He saw that, typically, his attempt at humor had failed and she looked slightly crestfallen. Slightly. "Typically, my attempt at humor has failed," he continued. "Please explain." They resumed walking.

"Now that I'm not your student, I would like very much for us to be friends."

"You seem to have an ample supply of friends. Why add me to your entourage?"

She could not know the bitterness he did not express, that he had become used to being an oddity, cultivated merely for his novelty and dropped as soon as it was discovered he was impervious to prying questions and gratuitous sexual advances. Yet she looked at him thoughtfully and said, "Not as many as it seems. My personality doesn't lend itself to either shallow social pursuits or delusions of grandeur, or sexual conquest, like Jim Kirk."

"Those are the prevailing conditions in many human collegial organizations," Spock observed. "And I agree that you don't seem suited to them. So where, as the saying goes, do you fit in?"

"I don't," Uhura replied. "I get along quite well with a lot of people, because that's how I survive. I'm biding my time until I find a place where I feel I belong, where I know what I'm doing and why. Meanwhile, I'm fun to be around, I can hold my liquor, I don't sleep around, and I can be trusted to keep a secret or help a friend."

He looked fully at her then, and she looked straight back with the expression she had worn in the viva. Then she laughed and the defensive demeanor fell away.

"That's me in a nutshell."

"It is refreshing to hear such candor, particularly from a student. I frequently find the culture of obsequiousness and academic competition tedious."

"Why do you persist, then, as a teacher?"

They had reached the other side of the vast quad, nearing the transit station where she would catch her ride back to her quarters.

"It seems a logical pursuit for one of my experience and abilities."

"What an uninformative answer."

"Does being your friend entail being subjected to such criticism on a regular basis?"

"There's only one way to find out." She was not teasing him! She was speaking sincerely, with humor to be sure, but she was in earnest. He tried to match her sincerity.

"Xenolinguistics is an easy subject for me," he admitted. "And Captain Pike requires me to teach on a regular basis, in order to become accustomed to dealing with cadets. He seems to think my next assignment will be a training mission."

"Logical," she agreed. "So what now for Mr. Spock? More teaching, more learning? Your new mission?"

"Exercise," he said firmly. "Meditation. And sleep."


	2. Yoshi's

For Uhura there was then a time of intense activity, graduation, moving into interim quarters before being assigned to a mission or facility, learning the ropes as the new kid in the department (swing shift on the main sensor array). It was some time before she had more than a distant glimpse of Spock, although there seemed to be quite a few of those. She realized one day that they were now living in the same complex on the ocean side of the campus; that must account for the frequent sightings, she thought.

What she did not know was that Spock was inching his way, unobtrusively as was his wont, into her life. It was no coincidence that she had been assigned to his building. He told himself his attitude was fraternal; he was looking after her in a distantly benevolent way. Before she knew it, they were encountering each other in the turbolifts or the library, and she was buying him coffee at Peet's, a custom to which he was normally indifferent but which now seemed to become a part of his routine. She even got him out of that routine occasionally, hiking, climbing, and introducing him to jazz music.

It was on one of those jazz nights that Spock first observed Jim Kirk in action.

He was to meet Uhura at a place called Yoshi's in the east bay. Remembering her teasing about him being born in uniform, he decided to test her powers of observation, donning a deep brown tunic that he usually wore on his visits home.

He emerged from the transbay rail station and saw the place, lit up and emitting sounds of -- "Cannonball" Adderley, he believed, was the appellation. He wondered if he would ever become accustomed to the human flair for nicknames. No matter. Mr. Adderley's style suited him, and this band seemed to be doing it justice.

Spock slipped in and stood back by the bar, searching the crowd. He caught a voice at the bar:

"Whereas I'm here and now. And ready...to light up your night."

Typical human male ego, thought Spock, and he was about to move on when a familiar female voice responded:

"A bird in the hand, etc.?"

His head snapped around. Uhura sat at the bar with a younger cadet leaning next to her. Her body language was telling the cadet to "get lost", but he obviously wasn't getting the message. Spock considered intervening, then recalled her preference for fighting her own battles and kept his place. For the moment. He found human behavior fascinating, particularly during courting.

The cadet seemed to be trying to persuade Uhura to be his companion rather than wait for her friend to arrive. Her next remark should have unequivocally warned off her suitor, who seemed unusually obtuse.

"It didn't work in a dive in Iowa; what makes you think I'll succumb to your alleged charm here in the big city?"

"You stand out even in this crowd, Uhura. I can't believe your date would be so much as a nanosecond late to enjoy your company."

Spock realized now that the cadet was not obtuse, but overconfident.

"Well, Jim Kirk," she said in a tone that had made many men dive for cover, "at least he's not a clueless cadet who can't control his thrusters."

"Wow, do you lie awake at night making those up? Because I'd be glad to come over and help you with that."

For a moment Spock thought she might slap him. Then she laughed.

"Run along, Jimmy. I can light up my own night. I don't need help making up snappy retorts. And the gentleman I'm waiting for," she leaned toward him, "is not only a gentleman in every way, but I can trust him to keep his hands to himself until I'm ready."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Well, when you decide you want to have some fun…"

"I know where to find it."

She slid off the bar stool, within centimeters of Kirk's face, and looked over his shoulder directly at Spock.

"Right over there."

She abandoned Kirk to his own devices and strolled in a leisurely, sultry fashion over to the Vulcan.

"You heard that?"

"Every syllable," Spock told her, impressed. "I must say that your technique for dealing with importunate males is admirable. Especially your forbearance to resort to violence."

She laughed again, not with derision but with delight, and took his arm as they picked their way toward a newly vacated table. "Jim Kirk knows I'm not just an easy lay, so he sees me as a challenge."

"A challenge to which he is not equal." Spock held her chair for her, then seated himself. She smiled and thought, not for the first time, what a sharp contrast there was between his respect and gallantry and the self-importance of most of the other men she'd known. Impulsively, she leaned across the table and kissed him on the cheek. Spock turned to look at her and blinked, slowly, like a contented cat.

The evening drew to a close. There was no sign of Kirk when they left Yoshi's, took the train back to the Starfleet Headquarters campus, walked in companionable silence to her door.

She turned to thank him for his company and felt his lips warm on her cheek. His kiss lingered for a moment, then he stepped back and said softly, "Goodnight, Nyota."

"Goodnight," she said, nonplussed.


	3. Aftermath

Then came the _Enterprise_.

The day after Spock's mother died - no matter what happened to Vulcan, the Enterprise, or its crew, it would always be that day for him - Spock sought out Uhura in the officers' mess and simply sat down across from her. She looked up and smiled faintly.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

"I am uninjured." His internal walls, after the events of the previous day, were back in place and more fortified than ever. Her expression was more weary than offended, and he reminded himself to whom he was speaking. "Thank you for your concern. May we speak somewhere in private?"

"Of course. The conference room at the end of the hall."

They were being careful of each other. Uhura was wondering whether it had been a mistake to express her compassion physically as she had. Spock knew it had not been a mistake, but he was frankly at a loss as to what to do with the knowledge.

Once in the room, Spock turned to face her.

"I wish to speak about your actions yesterday," he said, "in the turbolift, and later in the transporter room."

He watched her stiffen slightly. "Do you believe I was out of line, Commander?"

"No." He spoke quickly. "No - I wish to thank you."

Her eyes were guarded.

"Your embrace…" Spock was trying to express his emotions verbally, something he had done for many years only with his mother. And this woman was certainly not maternal, not to him. He realized he had trailed off and resumed. "You were trying to help me, I know. I am grateful to you. Forgive me if I did not respond in - an appropriate manner."

"Spock," she said, and he felt an irrational increase in his heart rate, "you put your needs aside, and took action for the crew and the ship, and for Earth. It was perfectly appropriate - for you." She took his hand. "I only wanted to comfort you."

"You did," he said. But then he turned and left the room.

***

That was two days ago, long days, as the crew struggled to return to some kind of normal routine. Uhura went about her duties, saw Spock on the bridge, shared meals in the mess hall, felt as though she were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Their friendship had changed. Uhura never found herself really alone with him, and she wasn't sure what she would do if she did. Then one rainy evening, she was returning to the ship from a visit with some Earthside friends, and as she approached the transporter facility she saw a tall, familiar figure standing some distance away, up on the hill overlooking the Golden Gate. He was absolutely still, his head uncovered, turned away from her with his face tilted up into the rainfall.

As Uhura came to stand beside him, Spock said conversationally, "Do you know how infrequently rain came to Vulcan?"

"I have wondered," she said, untruthfully.

"Without going into irrelevant details," he continued, "it was very rare. I have experienced rain many times since I left there, however."

"You have never enjoyed being in the rain."

"No," he said. "But she did."

He turned and looked at her, and as the rain dripped from his upswept brows, soaked his hair, ran down his clothes, she knew he was speaking of his mother.

"Any time there was precipitation on the horizon, she would go outside and gaze eagerly at it, as if hoping it would come near. If it fell nearby, she would reach out her hands as if to encourage it. If it fell on our location, she would run outside and turn her face up to it, and laugh. She said," and his voice actually faltered, "she said that something so rare and so beautiful had to be treasured and enjoyed. I think she missed the planet of her birth."

Uhura felt tears on her cheeks, warmth mingling with the cold rain. Spock reached out to touch her face, and she wondered how anyone could think of him as expressionless.

"That day," he said, "and now. You can weep for her. I cannot. It would do me no good if I did, and might even harm me. But I am grateful for your tears, Nyota."

"Not for her," said Uhura. "I grieve that she's gone. I wish I had known her. But my tears are for you."

"Pity? That's not like you."

"No. I don't pity you. I love you."

Even as the words left her lips, she felt a moment of terror that she had gone over a line that would separate them forever. Then she felt his hand lifting her chin, looked up to see his dark eyes studying her, and leaned into his embrace as he gathered her into his arms with a sigh and buried his face once more in her shoulder.

***

For once she was first to return to practical matters.

"You're soaked. I'm soaked. Can we do some more of this in a warm, dry environment?"

Spock nodded. His hand slid down to grasp hers, and they turned as one toward the transit station where they could beam back to Enterprise. To Enterprise, thought Nyota, then stopped in her tracks. Spock tugged at her hand. She laughed.

"You have just reminded me that I dislike being in the rain," he said with an inquiring look.

"Okay, okay," she said and they closed the distance at a run, entering the transit hall, which was busy enough as there were many ships in the system for refit and shore leave. As Spock looked for an available platform, he asked, "What caused you to hesitate?"

"Where exactly are we headed?"

"I believe the Enterprise's current orbit - "

"Your place or mine?"

Spock abandoned his search and addressed her issue.

"I believe your quarters are closer to the main transporter area," he offered seriously. "You should change into dry clothes as soon as possible. I have noticed that dampness and cold have a more deleterious effect on - "

"But I think your bed is bigger than mine."

He eyed her speculatively.

"Possibly. However, is there not a human adage that size is immaterial?"

Innuendo? From Spock? She nearly burst out laughing and saw that that had been his intention. She caught her breath and said, "Come on, there's some of our crew. We'll all beam back together."

The two approached the platform and saw Ensign Chekov and Dr. McCoy converging there as well. "Out on the town?" McCoy was saying to Chekov, who stammered, "Just wisiting Russian tea house with friends from Academy. They all want to hear about Enterprise."

McCoy slapped him on the back congenially. "So they should. Your career is off to a brilliant start, kid." He then spotted Uhura and Spock, hand in hand and dripping. Before McCoy could utter something typically sarcastic, Spock said, "We have not been on the town. We have been in the rain."

"I can see that." McCoy's gaze moved to Nyota. "You should get out of those wet clothes, young lady. You'll catch your death."

"I've made arrangements," Nyota said, "Sir." She didn't dare look at Spock. 

McCoy, on the other hand, looked from Nyota to Spock and back, but said merely, "I don't doubt it."

Spock said nothing. Just before the transporter was activated, he let go of Nyota's hand - it was inadvisable to transport from separate pads while in physical contact - and when they materialized on the Enterprise he did not take it again. She didn't seem to mind. 

McCoy turned to the group in general and said, "Have a good night, all."

"I fully intend to," said Spock, not quite sotto voce, and was gratified to hear Nyota stifle a chuckle.


	4. She walks in beauty

Nyota's quarters were indeed closer to the transporter, but they continued along the hall and up a level to his door, encountering no one they knew. Spock palmed the door open and allowed Nyota to enter first, following and locking the door behind them.

She stood in the middle of the room, no longer dripping but certainly damp, and he paused near the door, just gazing at her. Now that they were private, safe from interruptions, and pursuing (he hoped!) the same end, he was not sure how she would prefer to proceed. She on her part was becoming more and more aware that he was not just a human with unusual facial features; it occurred to her that she was completely ignorant about Vulcan sexuality.

Spock pulled his waterlogged sweater over his head and dropped it next to the door; beneath it he wore a regulation black t-shirt. His boots followed the sweater, and he padded damply over to her as she removed her jacket. As she drew her arms out of the sleeves, he took it, consigned it to the pile, and took her face in his hands, never taking his eyes from hers.

"Nyota." His baritone whisper warmed her. "I am yours. If you want me."

"If I - " She didn't know whether to laugh or shout. She did neither, but said, "I didn't know how much, until I kissed you."

"In the lift?"

"No. I hardly knew what was happening, then. But when I saw you in the transporter room, I just wanted to wish you good luck - and you were - you just - "

He bent his head and kissed her, lightly, no more than they had done then, a sweet promise of what was to come. She laid both hands on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with the rhythm of his breath against her lips. She shivered, but not from dampness.

Nevertheless, he immediately said, "You should remove your wet clothing."

Her passion suddenly flip-flopped into hilarity.

"You sweet talker," she said over her shoulder as she headed for the lavatory. Spock took a deep breath. Methodically, as he ended every day, he went into the bedroom, removed the rest of his clothes and put them into the cleaning unit. His boots went in the closet neatly below tomorrow's uniform. He was nearly always in uniform, a neutral appearance, complementing his natural preference to remain in the background. It was Nyota who had encouraged him to try new clothes, new music.

He had dried off and was wondering if, out of courtesy, he should put on a robe when the lavatory door opened. He turned to see Nyota, wrapped in a towel, her still-damp hair loose over her shoulders. As she approached, Spock said softly:

" _She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies,_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meets in her aspect and her eyes…"_

He saw fire in those eyes but stood still, waiting. She wasn't sure what to expect. Would he be a different man under these circumstances? Was he doing this out of curiosity, or gratitude? What an idiot she was. She saw his expression as he stood there, as if waiting for a sign, and knew that it would be out of character for him to do this out of any other motivation than love.

She didn't need to hear him say it. She had seen it.

She came slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, the towel gathered in her clasped hands over her chest, her gaze fixed on his face. Some detached part of his mind noted that she was not inspecting his physique as most humans would have done.

Spock reached out to lay his hands on her shoulders, gently drawing her closer until he could feel the towel brush his stomach.

"Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me what you need."

He bent his head as she lifted hers, leaning into him. Spock had kissed, and been kissed by, human women before, usually out of curiosity. Vulcans were not partial to osculation as a rule. He found that he was an exception to the rule. Her lips parted, letting him explore, and he felt a stirring in his groin. She felt it as well and her heart raced.

"Hold on to me," Nyota whispered against his lips.

He began to slowly unwind the towel, letting it slip down her back to fall unregarded on the floor, feeling her warmth along the length of his body. His hands met at the small of her back and he deepened his kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

They might have stood there forever. Then Spock felt her tremble and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to his bed (which, he noted, was indeed bigger than hers). He lay her down and sat back, letting his eyes roam over her body. Her skin was like polished mahogany, breasts and hips rounded in the dim light.

Nyota in her turn examined her lover, her desire mounting as she surveyed his lean young body, jet black hair accenting his figure and the rising of his sex as he returned her regard. Under his curved brows his eyes met hers, and as she held out her arms Spock sighed and sank into them.

She began to kiss his face, softly, tasting him, smelling him - a man-smell, but like no other man she had known - running her fingers through his hair, feeling his hands lightly stroking her skin. Her lips moved to his neck, breathing in more of him, and he turned his head for her and sighed. When she reached his earlobe she felt him shudder, then did something she'd wanted to do for a long time and gently kissed the tip of his ear.

Spock moaned softly. A sound he did not recall ever making before.

"Is that good?" came her whisper and he managed to say, "Oh, yes."

"I had no idea."

"Neither did I."

Her breath tickled his ear as she chuckled and he shuddered again. He wondered if he would be able to let go of his long-held emotional barriers, to let her in, to get his mind to shut up and enjoy himself, another practice alien to Vulcans.

"Nyota, I - "

"Shut up," she murmured, "and enjoy yourself." She took his ear lightly between her teeth. If he could have laughed, he would have. Instead he turned his head to capture her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep against hers, nuzzling and sucking and devouring. He could not get enough of her soft, hot kisses.

Spock swept her hair back from her face and said in Vulcan, "It would add to our pleasure if we were to join our minds as well as our bodies."

She had an idea what that meant. She responded in the same tongue, breathlessly.

"I am willing."

Deciphering the subtle changes in his face, she could tell he was pleased. He kissed her, lightly now, and lifted his hands to her temples.

_My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts._

Nyota closed her eyes and tried to quench the tiny spark of apprehension that went along with new experiences. She could not find words to define when or how she felt him approach in her mind. Slowly, his consciousness touched hers, as gently as his hands, and

_she perceived his_

_astonishment_

_admiration_

_lust_

_curiosity_

_relief_

_he perceived her_

_trepidation_

_passion_

_wonder_

_curiosity_

_relief_

Spock stabilized the connection between them, opened his eyes and removed his fingers from her contact points. Laying his palm between her breasts, he slowly stroked around one, then the other, avoiding her nipples for the moment. Nyota was moving against him now, her thighs shifting as the energy gathered in her sex, and moaning softly. He brushed her nipple with the backs of his fingers and felt it swell and harden, her back arching as she tried to rub against his hand. 

He moved to fit his hand to her breast, his fingers circling the nipple, and lowered his head to fill his mouth with her silky skin and warm flesh. He felt her nipple throb as he sucked, first gently, then hungrily. His cock was close to full erection and he took a moment to control it, wanting to prolong his explorations and her pleasure.

She opened her eyes, watched him tasting her, and felt she could wait no longer. Reaching down, she tried to touch his cock, and was stopped by a firm but gentle hand.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Even Vulcan control has its limits." At her mock astonishment, he cocked an eyebrow and added, "That is classified information, lieutenant."

"Oh, yes," Nyota said, "commander." She withdrew her hand, and went on, "Let me touch you, Spock. Please."

"I will. But this first time, indulge me, dear one."

He commanded her to lie back while he explored the rest of her body with his mouth and hands, slowly but thoroughly, gaining confidence with each touch. He knew the basics of Vulcan female anatomy, and that of human women was nearly identical. 

He had stroked her breasts, her belly, the long smooth arch of her back, her tight backside, each time returning to enjoy her kiss. and had moved further down the bed. She felt like she could purr. She knew where he was going.

When his lips reached the fold of her thigh she rolled onto her back and opened her legs, showing him her treasure, smooth and brown, invitingly wet. Spock breathed in her scent and nearly lost control. He bowed his head against her thigh and once again controlled his reaction.

"What is it?" he heard her whisper.

"Thee art beautiful," he said in Vulcan.

His fingers massaged her mound, feeling the blood rushing beneath her skin, hearing her gasp. He closed his eyes, picturing his target, slipped a finger between her labia and was rewarded with the sound of her moan. Moving slowly and gently, he stroked her skin, lost in its texture and scent, and found the spot that would give her the greatest plasure, her clitoris. Spreading her inner lips, he bent his head to touch his lips to the place. He was not prepared for her reaction.

She cried out and thrust herself against his mouth, unable to bear any more sweet torment, hearing him moan in his turn and looking down to see his eyes closed in bliss, fully engaged in tasting her. She thought she heard him saybeautiful one, then realized it was his mind speaking to hers, as his tongue was now busy elsewhere,

She closed her eyes and spread herself as wide as she could, trying not to thrust, wanting it to last yet wanting it to end. She felt she might come at any moment. Spock seemed to guess this and withdrew his mouth from her sweet mound. She nearly cried out in anguish but his lips were now hot and wet on hers again, the weight of his cock brushing her thighs as he rose between them.

_soon, any moment, and you will know me_

_please,_  she thought _, please, how will this end, how can I love you?_

_like this_

and Spock shifted back on his heels on the bed, bringing her with him, his knees spread firmly apart to support them both, her legs around his waist, his erection pressing hard against her abdomen, and Nyota wrapped her arms around him so they were face to face

_can this happen? can I let it happen?_

_you have, you are, you can_

_have to drop the last wall_

_show me_

_I cannot_

_show me_

_how?_

_like this_

Nyota lifted his face in her hands. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black and bottomless, his lips parted, his hair actually in disarray (noted with amusement in the very, very back of her mind). He looked stunned. He had never felt such exquisite hunger.

"Spock," she whispered. "Spock."

At the sound of his name from her lips, a groan, almost a growl, began in his gut as he lifted her, braced his legs, and lowered her onto his aching cock.

She let out a sound of her own, squirmed as if to sink even deeper onto him, unable to satisfy her urge to thrust, to pursue their climax. Spock wrapped his arms tighter around her, one hand under her thigh and one round her waist, and caressed her mouth with his, rocking gently and rhythmically up and down into her

_not enough oh please oh please finish me_

_not enough? perhaps this_

Spock rose on his knees, lifting her, and thrust upward once, strongly, twice, felt her vagina tighten as her orgasm began, felt his control abandon him, thrust again and held still, his body clenched as his heat poured into her. She clutched at his shoulders and writhed against him, and he flung his head up and cried out, another sound he had never heard before, a motion he would have once thought unnatural but which was now the only move he was able to make.

Nyota's mind and body were full of him, so full, joyful and exhausted and hot and wet and amazed. He fell back on his heels, held her as she gasped and sighed and relaxed against him, until finally he himself could relax and topple gently forward, laying her sweet body down, collapsing beside her with her head on his heaving chest.

After some time he felt her smile against his skin.

"Yes?" Somehow the mental link had subsided to a wordless murmur and verbalization was necessary once more.

"I was thinking I should be hearing your heartbeat, but then I remembered the peculiarities of Vulcan anatomy." She looked up at him. Any other man would have laughed or at least grinned. Spock's equivalent was a raised brow and a tightening of his arms around her. She lay her head down again. He was not like any other man.

"Nyota," he whispered against her hair, considering, with satisfaction, the peculiarities of human anatomy.

That was last night.


	5. Picking up signals

Now as she stood at her station, feeling weak in the knees, she realized that she wasn't just daydreaming about their night together (although the memories did present themselves pleasantly from time to time). Even when she pushed such thoughts out of her mind, even while she was focusing on her data, her body was acting strangely, as if someone else were controlling it. Not her actions, but things like her heart rate, her internal temperature; she felt flushed. Lt. Oriya came over to her and said, "Are you OK, Uhura? You're not looking so good."

"I'm all right. I just - I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and it's been a hell of a week," Uhura said lamely.

"You got that right. Can I do anything for you?"

"Maybe I'll just sit down for a minute."

Uhura did so, but as she did she felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through her solar plexus, and she suddenly recognized the feeling. She was getting turned on. Involuntarily and spontaneously. And she hadn't even been thinking about him. Even as she struggled to calm her body, her mind cast about wildly for a solution. She couldn't very well reenact her intimate moments with Spock here on the lab floor, but she couldn't get her legs to hold her up. Oriya's face appeared before her and she said, "Uhura! Should I call sickbay?"

Uhura stared blankly for a moment, then, as Oriya reached for the comm, whispered, "No - no, find Spock. Find Commander Spock. He knows."

Oriya gave her a quizzical look but got on the page.

***

"Commander Spock, please report to the main communications lab. Commander Spock to the comm lab."

Spock had just come off shift and was exiting the turbolift on his deck when he heard the page. He immediately turned to re-enter the lift and was joined by the captain, who dove in at the last moment.

"Change your mind, Spock?" Kirk was always one for idle conversation. Spock wondered if he was ever willingly silent. Out of courtesy, he said, "I have been called to the comm lab."

The lift doors closed silently and they began to move. "You're off duty," said Kirk. "And that's not your department. Wonder what's up."

Wonder to yourself, thought Spock; he recognized Kirk's admirable qualities but hoped he would someday become acclimated to his more annoying ones. Nyota was working in the comm lab this shift, but Spock wasn't about to mention that, not wanting to pique Kirk's curiosity even more.

As he left the lift, Kirk followed, but this observation was lost in the wave of mental heat that met Spock as he strode down the hall. It was all he could do to keep from breaking into a run; he knew that what was affecting him was surely coming from Nyota, and she was not prepared to deal with it as he was.

Spock entered the comm lab to see Lt. Oriya kneeling beside Nyota's chair, looking anxious, but his focus was Nyota, who was gasping and clenching her fists as if in pain. But he knew it wasn't pain she was feeling. Her eyes met his and a flicker of relief passed across her face.

"Do you know what this is?" Oriya asked him. "She said she was hallucinating, but she wouldn't let me call sickbay."

"Quite right," said Spock firmly. Kneeling in his turn, he lifted his hand to place his fingers on Nyota's brow and temple, closing his eyes and searching for the connection he knew would be there.

Ah, there she was. Calm. Breathe, Nyota. Feel my control. Use it. My mind to your mind.

Her breathing slowed; her pulse steadied. The fire died and her body suddenly relaxed. Spock opened his eyes to see Oriya and now Kirk watching them.

"What is it?" asked Kirk, and to his credit he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Lt. Uhura is involuntarily reliving an intense experience," Spock said truthfully. "She has been learning Vulcan mind techniques in order to deal with recent events, but control can be difficult at first."

"What did you do?"

"It is the Vulcan mind meld. Vulcans are touch telepaths, and our friendship has made it possible for us to occasionally interact in this way in moments of duress. I have helped her control her hallucination."

"Will she be all right?" Oriya was one of her closest friends. Spock nodded and said, "She needs to rest. With your permission, captain, I will see Ms Uhura to her quarters."

"Of course."

Kirk watched as Spock took Uhura's hand to help her up. She looked almost normal but very tired, and she smiled briefly as they passed on their way out. But Kirk noticed Spock did not let go of her hand.

***

"What the hell was that all about?" Nyota entered her quarters and collapsed on the nearest horizontal surface. "Vulcan mind techniques?"

Spock picked her up easily and carried her into the bedroom. "I did not wish to lie to the Captain. And we did experience a mind meld last night."

"And today?"

"I can only speculate," he began, seating himself beside her. "When Vulcans mate, if they are unbonded and intend to remain so, they need to remain emotionally and mentally separate. This is necessary for a race which combines physical contact with telepathy. We are able to wall off, if you will, our thoughts and memories from each other while we are physically joined. Between those who are bonded, such restraint is of course unnecessary."

"Enough of the biology lesson. How is this connected to our 'recent experience'?"

He touched her face. "I know that I did not hold back any emotions or thoughts from you last night, and I felt yours as you responded to me."

She responded to him then, kissing his palm as he continued. Then it sank in. "Wait, are we bonded now?"

"I don't believe so," he said slowly. "There is a particular technique to be implemented to establish a lifelong bond. However, there were no 'walls' between us last night, and I believe our minds are no longer completely separate, even when we are physically apart."

She was fascinated and a bit alarmed. "Do you mean I'm picking up signals from you?"

"I don't know. I have not been particularly aware of your thoughts today, although evidently my mind has not been entirely on my work."

She laughed and the sound made his heart beat faster. Or perhaps it was her physical proximity. Or perhaps he was more tired than he thought. "With time and meditation, it should become easier for you to close off those sensations when you need to."

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"I have never been intoxicated. But I wonder if it can feel like this. "

Spock suddenly realized he was speaking of his emotions as easily as if he did it every day. He lay down as well, facing her.

"Why didn't you warn me about this?"

"I did not know it would happen."

"It hasn't happened with other women?"

He leaned up on an elbow to gaze at her. She gazed back. "You have experienced pon farr, haven't you?"

"Twice, but it was with Vulcan women, and they knew how to close their minds."

"But apart from that?"

"I have never mated outside of the pon farr, Nyota. Until now."

Nyota looked at him, overwhelmed. She felt as if he had given her a gift.

"I love you," she said.

"And I you," he whispered, feeling as though it would be too difficult to say it any louder. He kissed her brow, her cheeks, her lips, wrapping his arms around her. "But you really should sleep now."

"Sleep? Now?"

"When your lover is a Vulcan," he said, "you need to keep up your strength."


End file.
